copyright © 2016 by mohamad faridi destinationministry@hotmail · waiting for the reappearance of...

Copyright © 2016 by Mohamad Faridi

All rights reserved

Printed in the USA

ISBN 978-0-9985413-0-3

Destination-USA, Inc.

PO Box 60961

Fort Myers, FL 33906

[email protected]

This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any

form without prior written permission of the publisher.

Unless otherwise noted, all Scripture quotations are taken

from the New King James Version of the Bible © 1979,

1980, 1982, by Thomas Nelson Inc.: Nashville, TN U.S.A.

Used by permission.

Graphic Design: Spencer Elliott

First Edition, September 2016

This book is dedicated to my wife Susan and my supporting

Pastors Glen and Janice Lambert who encouraged me to put

my testimony in writing. A big thank you to Jerry Churchill

and to John Clive who made the publishing of this book

possible.

SECTION ONE

My Father’s Religion

Y NAME IS MOHAMAD FARIDI. I was born and

raised in a devout Shi’ite family in Tehran, Iran. My

father, who came from a very poor family in Northern Iran,

worked in the local hospital as a lab technician. He was a

very hard working person; and at a very young age began to

take care of and provide for his parents and siblings. He put

himself through college and helped many of his siblings

obtain their degrees as well. Even after he got married and

had a family of his own he helped his siblings out

financially. My mother came from a very religious Muslim

family. She worked as a phone operator in the hospital until

she got married. After that she stayed at home and took

care of me and my two older brothers.

All children born into a Muslim

family are dedicated to Islam, at

birth, by the reciting of the

Shahada, in their ears before

being handed to their mother.

It was no different for me. From

M

Shahada is an Islamic

creed declaring belief in

the oneness of god and

the acceptance of

Muhammad as his

prophet.

Forsaking My Father’s Religion

6

a young age, I learned to read and recite the Quran, the holy

book of Islam, in Arabic even though my mother tongue was

Farsi. My parents insisted that I participate in the various

Shi’ite rituals, and that I attended congregational prayer and

Quran classes in a Mosque, which is a house of worship. I

was taught and confessed that “There is no god but Allah

and Muhammad is his prophet.” I was also taught along

with all other Muslim children that Islam is the culmination

of all religions and superior to all other ways of life. Allah

and his prophet Muhammad, who is Allah’s last messenger,

wish to see Islam established throughout the world.

From a young age, I ached to know Allah and loved learning

about Islam. Islam is a religion of submission; the word

Islam literally means submission and surrender. I willingly

surrendered myself to the submission of Islam. As a result,

I joined religious groups

and became the most

zealous of my family in

seeking Allah and Islam.

Although I am the youngest

of my siblings, I encouraged and persuaded my older

brothers to be serious in following Islam. I washed (Wuḍū),

Wuḍū (pronounced vuzu) is the

ceremonial washing of head,

face, hands and feet before

Namaz or touching the Quran.


7

and prayed (Namaz) five times a day. I would wake up

before the sunrise every day, wash myself with cold water

and do my morning prayers, which is a series of standing,

bowing, kneeling, and pressing my forehead on the ground

the whole time reciting the ritual prayer (Salat). I also

joined the congregational prayer at the local mosque for the

afternoon and evening prayer times. For Muslims,

gathering in a mosque and praying together is evidence of

their faith’s power and unity.

After these prayer times, we

would listen to the Sheikh’s

sermon and engage in

discussion about religious

matters. After everyone had left, I would pick up after them

and then leave. These were just some of the religious duties

I performed in my daily life.

Along with many other Muslims, during the holy month of

Ramadan, I fasted thirty days. Fasting was from dawn to

dusk. You are not allowed to eat, drink, smoke, or engage in

sexual relations during this time. My family would wake up

an hour before the sunrise, eat a meal, recite Quran, and

spend some time in prayer before dawn. My mom

Sheikh is a Muslim leader

usually with graduate

level education in Islamic

theology.


8

encouraged us to join her in reciting the entire Quran during

Ramadan.

The next important month in the Shi’ite calendar is

Moharram, the month of blood. During this time Shi’ite

Muslims remember and ritually mourn for their dead

Imams, who according to the Shi’ites are the first appointed

leaders after the prophet Muhammad. During these times of

mourning, we would gather at

certain mosques or shrines. At

these locations a Sheikh would

recite the eulogy of the dead

Imam and people would weep

and beat and cut themselves.

Men, to the rhythm of the eulogy, would beat their bare

chests with their hands till it was bruised. I participated in

as many of these services as I could. I did these things

assiduously, beating my chest and bruising my back with

chains; and I would also kneel before a fellow adherent,

allowing him to strike my head with a sharp sword several

times to imitate the way Imam Ali was martyred. I even

could hear the strikes of the sword inside my head. Blood

ran down the sides of my head and when I touched my head

Shrines are holy tombs of

the dead Imams or their

descendants, and they

are in many locations

throughout Iran.


9

with the palm of my hand hair

and blood were on it. Once

after beating myself on my

chest for nine straight days, I

was so weak, broken, and in

pain that on the tenth day even

though I wanted to go and

participate more I could not. I

felt so condemned for failing to

continue with these rigors that day, and thought to myself

what kind of Muslim am I? My participation in these

ceremonies left scars on my back and head, which I still

have today. I did all of this to please Allah and fulfill what

was asked of me by Islam. For I had been taught that one

day I would have to stand before Allah, who would be

holding a pair of scales and the pile of bad deeds had to be

outweighed by my good deeds if I was to enter paradise. All

these rituals were acts of duty to put more weight on the

good deed pile; and yet, still there was no guarantee for me.

Among these Shi’ite expressions of devotion is the duty of

waiting for the reappearance of Imam Mahdi, the 12th Imam

in Shi’ite sect. He is believed to be the savior and was born

Imam Ali was Prophet

Muhammad’s son-in-

law, believed by Shi’ites

to be the successor after

the Prophet. He was

killed by the strike of a

poisoned sword to his

head.


10

but disappeared and will remain hiding from humanity until

he reappears to bring justice to the world. Iranians believe

that he is hidden in a particular well. Generation after

generation has been waiting for him to reappear. For 1200

years in fact! “Maybe this Friday he will come, maybe,” we

would say to one another. We were always ready; and so we

kept the doors and alleyways clean in anticipation of his

return, but he has never appeared. I would sit at this well

for days, writing my prayers, throwing them in the well, and

waiting. But he never responded to me. I asked the

Sheikhs, “Why does he not respond to me?” They always

answered me, “Son, you are not worthy enough yet.”

As I dove deeper into the teachings of Islam, I realized that

what I was doing was not enough. The only certain way

according to the Quran to achieve the ultimate goal of

entering Paradise, was to become a martyr for Allah in the

holy war, Jihad. Jihad unifies Muslims in a common goal to

cleanse this world from all ungodliness and prepare it for

the savior to come. I was prepared to become a martyr. I

wanted to sacrifice my life willingly in Jihad, and suffer a

worthy death to gain Islam’s paradise. In actuality, all I was

truly seeking was forgiveness from my sins and a


11

relationship with god. He was the holy one and I was the

unholy. No matter how devoted I was to him as a servant

and submitted to all that was required of me; he distanced

himself from me. My submission was driven by fear. There

was no personal relationship between god and I and no felt

warmth of affection in my heart, either from me to him or

from him to me. It was all actions done out of duty.

SECTION TWO

Encountering the Truth

T THE AGE OF TWENTY-TWO, I finished my

mandatory service in the Iranian Revolutionary Army.

Shortly afterwards, I met up with an old high school friend

to catch up on life. During our conversation, he began to tell

me how much his life and his

family’s lives had changed

since they became Christians.

This was the first time in

twenty-two years I was hearing

about Christianity. After two

hours of hearing his account of

what God had been doing miraculously in their lives, I was

very confused. None of it made sense, until the moment he

explained that Jesus sacrificed his life also for me and my

sin, that God “so loved you that he has given his only

begotten son to redeem you from the guilt of your sins,” and

that He would give me eternal life if I only believed. This

was the very thing that for so long as a Muslim I had worked

so hard to obtain, sacrificing myself and shedding my own

A

The Iranian Revolutionary

Army protects the

country’s Islamic System,

inside oppositions, and

boosts Iranian regime

influence globally.


14

blood, but never came close to achieving. The message of

what Jesus had done through his sacrifice brought me to my

knees; I repented and gave my life to Jesus Christ that very

day. I didn’t know him but I trusted him, because he laid

down his life for me.

The next Friday I went with my friend to a service at an

Armenian Church in Tehran. When I walked in, I

encountered a tangible pleasant peace and a love that I had

never felt. It was a feeling of lightness; a liberation from my

condemnation. I wanted to stay there forever. I was home.

The years of rigorous Islamic rituals never produced such a

peace. As I was captivated with the overwhelming peace, I

noticed on the overhead screen at the front of the building,

“Turn your cell phone off to respect the presence of the

Lord.” I thought to myself, “That couldn’t be right. The

presence of the Lord can’t be contained in this building.”

But at the same time I could not deny the presence of the

Lord that was with me. Then the church service started, and

the people started to sing, clapping their hands and praising

the Lord because He had died for them. These Christians

worshiped with a song that said:


15

Yes, Jesus you gave it up for me.

You gave up glory,

Dignity of heaven to reconcile me to God.

Yes, you gave it up for me.

You gave up your life on the cross.

You forgave my sins and gave me hope.

Yes, you gave it up for me.

The words of this song proved to me that this God is meek

and lowly hearted. But that was not the end of His story.

They were also celebrating the fact that He had also risen

from the dead; he had come back to life! This struck me,

because it was completely the opposite of what I had

practiced in my life – weeping and mourning for those

Imams who had died and were still dead.

After the service, my friend gave me a New Testament (a

“Gospel”) and told me, “This is the living word of God

written for you. Go and read it and God will talk to you

through this book.” I read the gospel over and over during

that week. As I read it, I got more immersed in it, and it

became more alive to me. Every time it offered me

something new. I got more connected to the Bible, and God


16

started really talking to me through it. I thought at first that

I was being manipulated. It seemed that someone had

studied my life and had written the New Testament just for

me! But, I could not put the Bible down. One of the verses

that came alive to me and set me free that week was:

“Come to me all you who labor and are heavy

laden and I will give you rest. Take My yoke

upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle

and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for

your souls. For My yoke is easy and My

burden is light.” Matt. 11:28-30

How did the God of the Bible know that I had labored for so

long and was heavy laden carrying religion’s heavy yoke?

Rest was the very thing I had been searching for in Islam,

my entire life, and had never found. Through the eyes of

Islam this life is a constant labor and service to Allah and his

prophet. The god that I served and had been sacrificing my

life for was never satisfied with me. He always wanted me

to do more, even to the point of taking my life in Jihad. And

then, only then might I have rest and enter paradise. But

now I was being introduced to a God who has already given


17

His Son’s life for me and for my sins. He sacrificed His own

Son for my forgiveness. And I had already enjoyed His

peace for free, a peace that despite all my extreme efforts, I

had never experienced. Everything that I had worked for

through rituals - peace, rest,

and forgiveness of my sins - was

already freely provided in

Christ Jesus. I so wanted Him

in my life, and to know Him

more and more.

The cost of not practicing Islam

any longer was great. I had

committed THE unforgivable

sin of Shirk, saying or accepting

that there is another God other

than Allah. One day when I was

home praying to Jesus, my dad

heard me and came to my

room. He asked me what I was

doing because the way that I

was praying was foreign to him.

I told him that I was praying to

The cost of renouncing

the Muslim faith is to

reject your family’s

values and what they

believe, and as a result of

that you lose them and

your friends. The

Muslim faith teaches that

if you commit shirk, you

cannot be forgiven and

there is no chance to

return; your punishment

is to live in hell for

eternity. According to

the Islamic law you are

sentenced to death if you

convert to Christianity.

You literally are signing

your death warrant.


18

Jesus. He asked me, “Why Jesus?” I said, “Baba, I found

someone who actually listens to my prayers and answers

back. I became a Christian.” I went too far for him that

night. He got very upset,

saying “WHAT!” I was excited

and he was mad. He said,

“Astaghfir Allah!” meaning

“beg god’s forgiveness.” He

started cursing me, and kicked

me out of the house. With no

place to go, I told my Christian

friend what happened, and his

parents took me to their place

and let me stay with them for a

while.

There, I got to know other

Christians who were part of

the underground churches

scattered throughout various

cities in Iran. My friend’s

parents were relatively new

believers and yet they led a

The underground

churches usually have

between 10 to 15 people

and meet in a home. They

generally consist of

family members,

neighbors or other fellow

Christians. Everyone

shares all that they have

with fellow Christians-

from home, to food, to

clothes. They gather

together, worship God,

pray and share the

gospel. Some of the home

group leaders oversee

multiple underground

churches in their city

and/or other cities

throughout Iran.


19

church in their home. During our times of gathering

together we would read the Bible, pray, and talk about the

testimony of the Lord Jesus. We would also watch Christian

TV broadcasts from the United States through Satellite TV.

Other Christians from various cities would come to their

house for fellowship. This is how I got to know Christians

from various towns and cities throughout Iran, and I would

travel to their homes churches as well. One of the best

periods of my life was during the time that I spent with my

friend’s family. They truly loved me and accepted me like a

son. We discussed the Word of God and prayed and fasted

together. During this time, I learned more and more about

Christianity. My eyes were open to a very different way of

life! I was being taught about the love of God, and I grew in

spiritual matters.

After four months, my mom talked my dad into letting me

come home. She believed I had been brainwashed by a

Western cult and that they should give me a chance to

repent and become a Muslim again. When I went home,

they carefully tried to persuade me to return to Islam; but,

when I was away I had learned much more about

Christianity and my Lord and Savior Jesus. Instead of my


20

parents persuading me to return to Islam, I started trying to

convert them to Christianity. I shared with them about the

love of the Lord and his miracle of transforming lives and

the hope that He has given me. First they mocked me, then

they ignored me, and then they got angry. They stopped

having that kind of a conversation with me. I was allowed to

sleep in our home, and that was it. There was very minimal

conversation with my family. My parents felt that I had

betrayed them. Whenever we had relatives visiting our

home, I was sent away, because I was a shame to my family,

and they did not want me to talk to anyone about Jesus.

During this time, I started attending an Armenian Iranian

Church that had a Pakistani Pastor with a congregation of

around twenty people. On my first visit the Pastor realized I

was a convert and he carefully questioned me why I was

attending their church. Since he knew his whole

congregation, I stood out like a sore thumb. After a little

time, he realized that I was genuine, not a spy for the

Iranian government. He sat with me every Thursday for two

hours and taught me the basics of faith in Jesus, and the

history of Christianity. I was spiritually hungry, and I used

every opportunity to learn more about Jesus. I attended a


21

variety of Church services on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and

three times on Fridays. My whole life revolved around my

new faith.

At the time, I was working as a taxi driver. In the car I drove

for the company, I would listen to an audio Bible as I drove,

and I also kept a Bible on the dash board. Whenever a

customer would ask me about the Bible, I would tell them

about Jesus. Some people came to believe in Christ as a

result; many others rejected it. One day, the owner of the

company took me aside and told me that some of the people

I had shared the Gospel with had reported me to the Iranian

government. He told me, “You are like my son, and I want

to protect you. If the government comes after you, your

family will also be in danger.” So he let me go to protect me.

I was, at this point, very afraid. The first thought that came

to mind was to leave Tehran and go to a different city. The

only people I could trust were fellow Christians that I knew

in other cities. So I started contacting them. But they told

me, “It is too dangerous to go there. The churches have

been under attack and many Christians have been arrested.”

I knew one of the next candidates to be arrested would be


22

me, and I knew the time had come for me to leave Iran

altogether. Within a few days, I had packed all I had in a

duffle bag and prepared for one of the biggest moments of

my life. The night before my departure I told my family that

I had to leave the country and that it is not safe for me

anymore. They were already thinking that I was out of my

mind, but they didn’t believe I was leaving forever. The next

morning I left everything behind that I owned, bought a bus

ticket to Turkey and left.

SECTION THREE

Wilderness

HE CROSSING OF THE IRAN TURKEY border was full

of fear and anxiety. I was really afraid that my name

was on a blacklist and that I would get stopped. The bus

arrived at the border around midnight. Before we got off the

bus driver told us that our bus was having mechanical issues

so we would need to get on a different bus once we passed

through customs to the other side. So I nervously gathered

up my belongings, got off the bus and preceded to the

Iranian customs. I cleared customs without difficulty and

carefully looked back to see if I was being followed as I

walked through a gate and into the no-man’s zone between

the two countries. Then after 20 yards or so, I went through

another gate into Turkey. There for the second time I stood

in line with many other Iranians to clear Turkish customs.

It was around 2:00AM when I was finally allowed to

proceed to the bus station to catch the Turkish bus to

Istanbul. Around 5:00AM the bus finally appeared.

Together with many others, I got onboard to continue the

journey. But, for some reason the bus driver would not start

T


24

the bus and leave. After minutes of nothing happening,

someone asked if anyone knew why we were not moving. A

man said, “I know Turkish let me ask the driver.” So he

talked with the bus driver, who then began speaking very

loudly. We asked the Iranian man what was going on and

he explained to us because this bus is an upgrade we must

pay $20 extra per person or the driver will not depart from

the station. We told the man we already paid for our tickets

in Tehran, and that this was the connecting bus that we paid

for, adding that it was not our fault and that we did not ask

for the upgrade. He was asked to go and tell the driver to

start the bus because it was getting very late. But when he

did this on our behalf, the driver screamed back angrily and

stormed off the bus. Another passenger said that we all

should just pay the extra money so we could get on our way.

He handed the man the money, and naturally everyone

followed suit, and we finally left the station.

I travelled across Turkey and reached Istanbul. When I

arrived, I rented a motel room in a part of the city that was

full of Iranians. In the motel I spoke with other Iranians

about the incident at the border with the bus driver. They

told me that this is a common occurrence, where the driver,

Wilderness

25

the interpreter, and the first contributor of money all work

together, as a part of the transportation mafia. They use this

trick often to cheat naive passengers like us.

Now that I was in Turkey I needed to figure out my next

step. Because I was not permitted to stay in Turkey for

more than 90 days, I looked for a smuggler to get me to

somewhere in Europe. Sometime back I had met an Iranian

called Seyyed who had an import-export business in

Istanbul. So I located his business and went to talk to him

to see if he had any connections to anyone that might know

a smuggler. He introduced me to someone who had

“connections”. When I spoke with this man, I learned that

the cost to be smuggled out of Turkey to Western Europe

was between $6,000 and $8,000 US. I did not have that

amount of funds, so I asked if he could get me a job so that I

could come up with the money. He told me that working on

a touristic visa is illegal. My reply back was, “So, it is fine to

smuggle me but it is not okay to give me a job?" He

responded, “It is what it is.” With great agitation I went

back to talk to Seyyed and get his advice. He asked me,

“Why do you want to be smuggled to Europe?” I explained

that I could not return to Iran because my life is in danger,


26

and briefly explained my story to him. He said to me,

“Before trying any other dangerous schemes there might be

another way. If you are legit and truly your life is in danger,

there is a place, called United Nations, which helps

individuals like you.”

I found out some more information and made my way to the

United Nations office. There they took a few details from

me concerning my circumstances, and told me that they

would be in contact with me. I was sent from Istanbul to

Nevşehir, a different town in Turkey, where I had to report

to the Police Department. The officials at the Police

Department took my Iranian passport and set up an

appointment for an interview with them, which was just to

get basic information about me and why I left my country.

They told me that I needed to come every weekday to check

in. So, till the moment I left Turkey, I would go as required,

every day and sign my name in a book, together with all the

others who were seeking refugee status.

Wilderness

27

I spent three hard and lonely years in Turkey. Turkey, like

Iran, is another religious Muslim country but from the

Sunni branch of Islam. In the

cities where there is plenty of

tourism, a façade of a peaceful

kind of Islam is presented;

whereas elsewhere, when you

live among the Turkish people you often experience the

ideology of the Muslim Brotherhood, a sect of Sunni Islam.

As a refugee, you don’t have the right to work or study. In

order to survive and eat, I worked illegally, doing various

rough jobs on construction sites. I was already looked down

upon by the Turks because I was from Iran, but when most

of the Turks that I worked for

realized that my name was

Mohamad and that I had

become a Christian, they

treated me horribly. They

would give me the jobs that

were the most labor intensive. At one job site I was required

to carry over 100 lb bags of cement and plaster on my back

up the stairs to the fifth floor, and bring back down bags of

I was named after

Muslim’s holy prophet,

Muhammad, who is the

central figure and founder

of Islam.

Sunni is the main branch

of Islam. 90% of the entire

Muslim population is

Sunni.


28

sharp, broken pieces of concrete and glass which penetrated

through the bag and cut my back. When I asked my

employer if I could drag the bags on the floor down the

stairs since they are cutting my back, he told me no. The

bags banging against the stairs would make noise and the

stairways would get dirty. While living in Turkey and

working among the Turks I learned their language.

Sometimes I wished I would have never learned it, because

of all the insults that I endured on a daily basis.

Despite the persecution, through the underground church of

the refugees in Turkey, I got to know and become friends

with two different Christian couples. Both couples work

with refugees in Turkey. They dramatically impacted my life

and encouraged me when I was at my lowest point.

Three months after arriving in Nevşehir, I had my first

interview process with the UN officials, which was an

interrogation. The interview lasted four hours, and every

movement I made during the interview was watched and

studied. I was told after this interview that they will make a

decision as soon as possible and I was to go back to my place

and wait. In the bitter cold of Cappadocia’s long winters, I

Wilderness

29

burned coal to heat my place; however, I only could afford

to heat up my bedroom and the rest of the small apartment I

lived in was almost as cold as it was outside. Whenever I

had to do anything in the other part of the house, I wore

many layers of clothing and hurried as fast as possible to get

back to my warm room. Everyone used coal in Nevşehir, it

seemed. A black cloud separated the town from the sky

through most of the wintertime. These conditions did not

soothe my weariness of waiting day after day to hear an

update from the UN regarding my case.

Hearing from the UN was the thin thread of hope that kept

me going through these conditions. This hope, however,

was broken one evening after a hard day of construction. I

came home, pulled up the UNHCR’s website, and punched

in my case number. In bold red letters it said REJECTED.

My head fell and I had no strength to raise it back up. The

thought of being deported back to Iran devastated me. My

physical body could not handle the stress. I began sweating

and shaking, and I passed blood for two days. I was

tormented by the thoughts of rejection and questions of

what my future held. Nevertheless, after a few days, I

realized I had no choice but to keep going.


30

I was permitted to file an appeal, and this involved asking

for a second interview. This would be my last chance with

the UN. When I filed I asked for the reason of the rejection.

They simply stated that, for a brand new Christian like me, I

had too much knowledge of the Bible, and it appeared to

them that I had been prepped for this kind of interview. I

was now back to square one. I had to redo the whole

process once more, with the knowledge that this would be

my last chance. And so my stay in Turkey lasted two years

more.

I will never forget the day that I received the message that

my refugee case had been accepted and I had a departure

date. I was attending a Christian conference. While

everyone else was eating and fellowshipping, I had a feeling

and decided to check my case status online. I typed my case

number in the UNHCR’s website and saw that my case had

been approved. I jumped up, screamed, and ran down the

stairs to share the good news with my fellow believers. As I

was running down the steep stairs, I twisted my ankle,

rolled down the rest of the way and hit the guard rail with a

loud crash. Everyone came running to see what had

happened. Screaming from the pain of my sprained ankle, I

Wilderness

31

told them my case was accepted, all the long waiting was

over, and I am going to America.

SECTION FOUR

Refuge

Y TRIP TO AMERICA WAS SURREAL. I couldn’t

really believe I was moving there. On the plane, I had

to pinch myself because I still thought I was only dreaming

of leaving all the difficulty of Turkey behind. It began with

an eleven hour bus ride from Nevşehir to Istanbul. From

Istanbul I had a fourteen hour direct flight to Los Angeles.

There it took me five hours to clear customs. And then after

clearing customs, I gathered my luggage, which contained

everything I owned, and walked from the international

terminal to the domestic terminal to fly another six hours to

Seattle. This was the city I had been allocated to go to by the

UN. My Christian friends who lived in Turkey were

acquainted with a Korean Church in Seattle and introduced

me to them, and so this is where I started my life in the US.

My first month in the US was very difficult. Everything was

different -- the cars, the roads, the houses, the food, and the

people. I was homesick and faced culture shock and

depression. The gray sky and the dreary rainy weather of

Seattle didn’t help the situation either. I was perplexed by

M


34

my surroundings. During one of my first days in the US I

went to the grocery store. It took me two hours to pick up

some snacks. There were so many options on the shelves.

All sorts of brands, sizes, and flavors made it difficult to pick

up a $2 bag of chips. As I was walking back to the place I

was staying with the grocery sack in my hand I passed by a

fairly sizeable man. He yelled at me, “CHANGE!” I jumped

and fearfully thought to myself, “Change what?” I hurried

away, and I never took that route again. When I talked to

someone about this incident, He told me that the man was

only a beggar and that he was simply asking for money.

A few days later, my caseworker showed up to process my

paperwork. I asked him if it would be possible for me to

move to a different city. He was happy to hear this and

offered to send my documentation to the destination I

chose. I chose to move to Los Angeles where the biggest

population of Iranians lives outside of Iran.

When I arrived in Los Angeles I faced further culture shock.

It was as if I was back in Iran but back in time. The

community of Iranians who left Iran in the 1970’s, during

the revolution, brought their old customs and cultures with

Refuge

35

them, and treasured them ever since. And the language they

spoke was an older version of Farsi.

A few months after I arrived in Los Angeles, I started to

work for a Persian Restaurant as a waiter. The restaurant

morphed into a night club on the weekends. Late night

shows with loud singing, belly dancers and drunk people

was not an uplifting nor encouraging environment for a new

Christian like me. All business was conducted by cash and

through the underground black market. There were no

records, no payroll, and no insurance! I thought to myself,

“I did not come all the way to America to work in this type of

environment, which was like working in a third world

country.” During this time I felt I had to get connected,

before it was too late, to other Christian believers. A friend

took me to a small bi-lingual church a couple blocks from

the place I was living. The church is truly the house of hope.

I had become bewildered and lost in all the vastness of

America, but the church lifted me up, gave me hope and

encouraged me. And it was in this church I met my bride to

be, and we were married the following year.


36

Meeting my beautiful wife and getting married to her was a

life-changing experience for me. But nothing can compare

to the life-changing experience of accepting Jesus as my

Lord and Savior. By accepting Him into my life and

converting to Christianity, nothing changed on the outside.

I have had to face a new chapter of challenges – including a

life threatening one. But inside me there is something new,

fresh, painless, light and full of hope and joy. My life now

has a meaning and a purpose – to love and to share freely

God’s message of hope with others.

SECTION FIVE

Your Decision

FTER READING THE STORY OF MY LIFE you may

ask yourself, “Is the truth worth dying for?” Leaving

Islam or even speaking about it is very costly; however,

thousands upon thousands of Muslims are willing to accept

the truth and lay down their lives for it. Would you be

willing to accept the truth and stand by it?

Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man

comes to the Father, but by me.” John 14:6

The Word of God promises, “That if you confess with your

mouth the Lord Jesus and believe in your heart that God has

raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. For with the

heart one believes unto righteousness, and with the mouth

confession is made unto salvation.” Romans 10:9-10 Romans

10:13 says, “Whoever calls on the name of the LORD shall be

saved.”

A


38

God, through His grace, has already provided forgiveness

for our sins. All you need to do is simply believe and receive

it. Pray out loud, “God, I confess Jesus as my Lord and my

Savior. I believe that God raised You from the dead and I

receive my salvation. Thank you for rescuing me!”

The very moment you commit your life to Jesus Christ, the

truth of His Word instantly comes to pass in your spirit.

This is the part of you that becomes brand new. I want to

encourage you to get a Bible and begin to read it. Let the

truth of God’s Word renew your mind. Romans 12:2

Share this message with someone. It is easy for your name

to appear in someone’s testimonial. Let’s share the good

news and impact this world.

The purpose of this book is to share the Good News of the

Gospel, give hope to the hopeless, and raise awareness

about what a religion can do to its followers. Any proceeds

from this book go directly to the ministry to spread this

message to others.

For information on how to obtain more copies, write or

email us at:

Destination Ministries

PO Box 60961

Fort Myers, FL 33906

[email protected]

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